


I’m Not Ready to Say Good Bye…

by Sevenwildwaysup



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, I’m Not Ready to Say Good Bye, Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pain, Remorse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4977154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevenwildwaysup/pseuds/Sevenwildwaysup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bombing at Babylon left Brian devastated, feeling a profound sense of loss and a deep retrospect on his life…</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’m Not Ready to Say Good Bye…

Title: I’m Not Ready to Say Good Bye…   
Story Type: AU   
Word Count: 1396  
Warnings: Minor Character Death, Angst, Love and Passion…  
Beta Queen: Bigj52  
Banner: ForeverBM

Summary: The bombing at Babylon left Brian devastated, feeling a profound sense of loss and a deep retrospect on his life…

 

**I’m Not Ready to Say Good Bye…**

 

Looking down at Michael’s coffin, I feel completely numb. I was sure he’d make it through surgery. I can’t believe he’s gone. I feel like there’s a huge hole in my chest, just like the burnt-out hovel that was once Babylon. I feel hollow inside, unable to breathe, like time is standing still. I feel so sorry that we never made up from our huge fight, although I’m still mad at him for turning into a Stepford fag. I miss the old Michael, the one I could tell or say anything to. He always understood me and where I was coming from. Now I feel so lost and alone. I feel like it should have been me, not him, as he had so much to live for.

 

Ben seems to be holding up pretty well, although I’m pretty sure he’s just in shock. Deb’s a wreck, no one ever expects to outlive their children. Thank God she has Carl and Emmett, hopefully they’ll be there for her. I walk a few feet away from his grave and light a joint, remembering us smoking at my father’s funeral. I never thought that I’d be standing here again for him. It only reinforces that life is short, and it’s time to start being honest with myself about my feelings.

 

What can I say to Deb? She asked me to talk to him, to make up with him. But I was still angry and it came out all snarky, instead of being a real apology, and now I’ll never get another chance. My old motto of no apologies, no regrets was always bullshit. There’s so many things that I now regret, things I wish I would have done differently. 

 

I asked Justin to marry me, but of course, he turned me down. I can’t seem to make him understand that I really want this. God, I’m so afraid of losing him too. Now Lindsay’s filling his head full of dreams of becoming the next Warhol and moving to New York. Christ! He just got back from Hollywood. Why can’t he just stay in one place for a while? I missed him so much when he was gone, although I never told him. So how could he know that I love him, and what he means to me? I truly wish he understood that I want to spend my life with him. 

 

The smoke is now filling my head, leaving me feeling stoned. I hate the idea of going back to stand in front of Michael’s coffin, yet I know that’s what is expected of me. I can hear them all telling stories about Michael and the times they shared. Soon it will be my turn, but what can I say? Now they’re all looking at me. I hear my voice, although I’m not aware that I’m talking. I seem to be on autopilot. 

 

“I love you, Michael. I always have, and I always will. No matter where I go, you’ll always be there with me…” 

 

I lay my red rose on top of his coffin, along with all the others. It’s hard to say how long I stand there, lost in my thoughts. Then I hear the sound of dirt hitting the dark mahogany, as they start to cover him up for all eternity. Finally I feel someone take my hand as I start to walk away with them. Just feeling the warmth of his hand is giving me strength. I’m glad he stayed behind to wait for me. He takes the keys to the Vette, asking me if I’m coming back to Debbie’s, or if I want to go home. I look down into his deep blue eyes, trying so hard to hold back my tears. 

 

“I guess we should go to Deb’s, otherwise she’ll hunt me down.” 

 

The house is full when we get there, so many people are here to support Debbie in her time of need. I sneak out back for a cigarette, and Debbie joins me. We stand in silence. It’s all understood as we smoke a joint, remembering the good times we’ve shared. I apologize to her, telling her I tried to make up with him, but I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. She says that it was like that with Vic and her, but she’s reassures me Michael knew how much I truly loved him. 

 

She smiles at me and holds my hand. “He had a good life these last few years. He found someone to love and share his life with, he even had a family.”

 

Then she looks at me and says, “Don’t wait until it’s too late. Tell him how much he means to you.” 

 

I halfheartedly smile and tell her. “I’ve been trying to for days now, but he won’t listen to me. All he sees is the old Brian, and all the times I’ve hurt him.” 

 

I finish my cigarette and we both head back into the house, not caring that we smell like pot. Carl will just assume that it was only me smoking, there’s no way he’ll mention it today of all days. There’s even more people here than when we went out back. I play nice and make small talk with Jennifer and Tucker. Mel and Lindsay are talking about moving to Canada, which surprises me, it’s the first I’ve heard about it. Then Lindsay is back on her rant about Justin moving to New York. All of a sudden I feel like I need to get out of there, the walls are closing in on me. 

 

Then he’s right there next to me, asking me if I’m ready to go back to the loft. He’s always been so good at reading me and knowing just what I need. We get our coats and say our goodbyes to everyone. Once we’re in the car I don’t know why, but I have to ask him if he’s planning on moving to New York. He says no, that he just moved into his studio and he likes it just fine for now. I can’t help feeling relieved. I’m so happy he’s not going away. I’m hoping that maybe we still have a chance. 

 

We drive back to the loft in silence. What is there to say? Now we’re lying on the bed, unwinding, holding each other as we let the pressure of the day dissipate. I think we’re both in shock over the events of the last few days. I whisper to him that I love him, that I’m ready to prove it to him. I really want to make what we have work. I’m not ready to risk losing him again, so I ask him to move back in with me, and just use his studio to paint. 

 

He looks up into my eyes and reads my loneliness, fear and despair that I’ve been hiding. He runs his hand through my hair and leans over and kisses me. “There will have to be some changes.”

 

I nod and let him continue. “The first is, I always come first.” 

 

I smirk. “You always do.” 

 

He swats me across my chest. “I don’t mean that! I mean I have to be your first priority. This isn’t going to work if you don’t respect me and my needs.”

 

“I do, I promise. I always will.”

 

“Second, no bringing other men back to the loft. Ever! This is our home and I won’t be made to feel uncomfortable in my own home.” 

 

“Of course. I totally agree.”

 

“Third, no cruising other guys when we’re out together. No exceptions! That’s part of the respecting me and my needs rule.”

 

“I promise.”

 

I look him in the eyes, waiting for him to continue. 

 

Finally he says, “Fourth, no throwing me off any cliffs! We discuss everything together, openly, when making decisions.”

 

Then he leans in and kisses me, asking me if I can live with these restrictions. I nod yes, then I kiss him back, pulling him into my arms. It feels so good holding him close. I’ve missed him so much these last few weeks. 

 

I’m actually surprised that he didn’t ask for monogamy. I think he knows that neither one of us will be able to commit completely just yet. 

 

But at least we’re ready to try one more time, and maybe we’ll finally get it right…

 

The End


End file.
